“The Moat House? It’s empty. Been empty for years. Mrs. Sweeny’s got the key if you want to go over it—next to the post office.”
Tommy thanked him. They soon found the post office, which was also a sweet and general fancy shop, and knocked at the door of the cottage next to it. A clean, wholesome-looking woman opened it. She readily produced the key of the Moat House.
“Though I doubt if it’s the kind of place to suit you, sir. In a terrible state of repair. Ceilings leaking and all. ’Twould need a lot of money spent on it.”
“Thanks,” said Tommy cheerily. “I dare say it’ll be a washout, but houses are scarce nowadays.”
“That they are,” declared the woman heartily. “My daughter and son-in-law have been looking for a decent cottage for I don’t know how long. It’s all the war. Upset things terribly, it has. But excuse me, sir, it’ll be too dark for you to see much of the house. Hadn’t you better wait until tomorrow?”
“That’s all right. We’ll have a look around this evening, anyway. We’d have been here before only we lost our way. What’s the best place to stay at for the night round here?”
Mrs. Sweeny looked doubtful.
“There’s the Yorkshire Arms, but it’s not much of a place for gentlemen like you.”
“Oh, it will do very well. Thanks. By the way, you’ve not had a young lady here asking for this key today?”